Interpreting Obama and the Chinese Press

In his final press conference of the G-20, President Obama made a point of seeking a question from the Korean press. After some silence—“Anybody?” Obama asked, plaintively—he called on a man with his hand up, who said: “Unfortunately, I hate to disappoint you, President Obama, I’m actually Chinese. But I think I get to represent the entire Asia, part of the family on this side of the world.”

“Well, it’s wonderful to see you,” Obama replied. To a Chinese audience, the questioner was instantly familiar: Rui Chenggang, the fresh-faced anchor of CCTV and a frequent orbiter in the Davosphere. Then there was some awkward grinning back and forth, as Obama said he would still need to make good on his promise to call on a Korean reporter. In the end, everyone got to ask their question—crisis averted!—and Rui asked a question about Obama’s feelings about “constantly being interpreted thousands of ways” that the President never intends, at home or abroad. Obama’s answer was straightforward, and then he headed to his plane.

Fittingly, this nano-event has become a perfect moment to compare these kinds of interpretations. In China, the Web lit up with praise or scorn for all involved. As Chinahush reports, the writer Ning Caishen snickered, “‘Representing the entire Asia,’ those words sound like the pet phrase of a student cadre. Brother Gang must have had excellent grades in school.” But the News Weekly editor-in-chief Xin Cheng said, “Regardless of whether Rui can represent Asia, he certainly can represent China.” As for Obama, the Beijing News even went so far as to report that “Many American internet users said that Obama’s reaction towards the Chinese journalist made them feel ‘embarrassed’ and ‘disgraced.’”

Let’s take a deep breath, folks. Obama called on the wrong Asian reporter with his hand up, then he let it play out. And in fairness to Rui, the video suggests that his self-appointed representation of Asia looks less like an act of rhetorical conquest than a split-second, if infelicitous, phrase to help him and the President out of an awkward moment. Case dismissed.

More interesting is that Rui has his own experience with being subject to multiple interpretations: In January 2007, Rui wrote a blog entry calling for Starbucks to withdraw a coffee shop that had opened within the confines of the Forbidden City. Rui’s appeal triggered a flurry of discussion about Chinese nationalism. “I never realized it would become such a big thing,” Rui told me, in an interview at the time. As he put it, he was not anti-foreign, but, rather, he was concerned about heedless commercialism by the bureaucrats in charge of China’s national monuments. (Perhaps, though I always sensed he was content to get support from all wings.) Online, Chinese extremists took his idea and sprinted: “Boycott Starbucks because this is culture aggression!” as one reply put it.

Before long, the issue had outpaced Rui’s intentions. “I’m not against Starbucks at all. I probably had my most recent cup of Starbucks in Chicago on the Magnificent Mile,” he said at the time. “All I want is for it to be in the right place.” Eventually, Rui had to post a follow-up called, “What am I really trying to do?”

In the end, Starbucks left the Forbidden City. Was it driven out by rabid nationalists? Or did it leave a location that was more of a headache than it was worth? That depends on the interpretation.

Evan Osnos joined The New Yorker as a staff writer in 2008, and covers politics and foreign affairs.